Page 57 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
“Have I kept you waiting?” Celeste asked, hurrying up to him.
His heart squeezed when he saw her, dressed in a pretty saffron-hued gown trimmed with cream ribbon, but he manufactured an ironic smirk. “The fault’s mine. I arrivedearly—a distressing turn of events.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” she said, her lips quirking. “You’ll have to do something to atone for your atrocious behavior, such as drunkenly pass out on a church altar.”
“That will be my next order of business.”
She smiled up at him, and the damned sun chose that particular moment to emerge from a cloud, so that her face was bathed in golden light. He clenched his jaw, certain that nature itself conspired against him.
“Already, I’ve heard from the Duchess of Northfield,” she said excitedly. “She’s pledged no fewer than five dozen hornbooks. And Lady Ashford wrote to me to say that she’ll provide chalk, ink, and quills. This is truly going to happen, Kieran.” Her smile widened, enfolding him.
“We’ll plan to meet in Ratcliff next week,” he answered. “Can you circumvent your father’s dictum again?”
“I’ll find a way,” she said with determination. She glanced past him toward the door to the elegant home behind them. “For now, Lord Hempnall’s is our goal.”
“I have my invitation,” he noted as they approached the door. “Should anyone demand to see it.”
“The fact that you’re here is enough assurance to the footman that you’re an invited guest.” Now standing in the entry hall, she nodded at the footman who stepped forward to bow a greeting. “This is an exclusive event, so interlopers seldom try to wheedle their way in.”
“My thanks for managing to gain a miscreant such as I entry.” He bowed as a marquess and marchioness walked past, and, shock of shocks, they both inclined their heads to acknowledge his presence. How novel to be seen.
He and Celeste followed the guests down a corridor that was replete with stylish, expensive objects and stylish, expensive people.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lapley,” Celeste said to a ruddy-cheeked woman in pearls. “This is Mr. Kieran Ransome, a family friend.”
“Madam,” Kieran murmured, bowing.
“Mr. Ransome,” Mrs. Lapley replied politely, but Kieran didn’t miss the appraisal in her gaze, far more commercial than sensual.
Kieran and Celeste passed other guests on their way toward the back of the house, and she introduced him, making certain to either indicate that his family was friendly with hers, or overtly stating that he was the son of an earl. He watched as the genteel guests’ distrustful expressions turned interested.
He stopped abruptly, coming face-to-face with his mother and eldest brother. Both members of his family stared at him uncomprehendingly, as if tryingto ascertain how he’d suddenly grown a pair of dragonfly wings.
“Mother, Simon,” he said neutrally.
“Lady Wingrave.” Celeste dipped into a curtsey. “Lord Greville.”
His mother continued to look at him with puzzlement, but Simon managed to collect himself enough to say, “This event is by invitation only.”
Celeste made a quiet, sharp inhalation, clearly not expecting his brother’s rudeness. For better or worse, Kieranhadexpected it.
“And here is mine,” he answered, holding up the piece of paper. “Issued by Lord Hempnall himself.”
“That is...” The countess blinked. “Bewildering.”
Why should her words wound him, when he’d endured similar from his mother his whole life? Still, something sharp slipped between his ribs, and he pressed his lips together to suppress any noise to show that she’d caused him pain.
“Kieran, that is, Mr. Ransome, made quite a favorable impression on Lord Hempnall at the horticulture exposition the other day.” Celeste’s tone was polite, but there was steel beneath her words. “Wherever he goes, he gains admirers. But that should come as no surprise to his own family.” Her smile was more a baring of teeth than a friendly expression, stunning both his mother and brother into silence.
“The program will commence shortly,” she continued loftily. “If you’ll excuse us.”
As soon as Kieran had led her away a safe distance, he murmured, “It’s impolite to kiss you in public, but damn if I don’t want to.”
She cast a glance over her shoulder and scowled. “I see a physical resemblance between you and your family, but thankfully that’s where the similarity ends.”
“Never had a defender before.” He coughed as his throat tightened.
“Why is it that the people we share blood with are the ones who understand us the least?”
